It's Nothing
by The Yuggster
Summary: Aragorn attempts to hide an illness from an injured Legolas, with nearly tragic results for both of them. No slash. Inspired by January Teitho contest.
1. Part One

Title: It's Nothing

Author: Yuggster

Rating: T (violence)

Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst

Disclaimer: Not mine. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit. But if someone _would_ pay me to write this I'd have the best job ever.

Summary: Aragorn attempts to hide an illness from an injured Legolas, with nearly tragic results for both of them. No slash.

_Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day! This story was a rejected idea for the January Teitho contest (changed my mind to do something more lighthearted). It's shorter, only three chapters, and I'll post it over the next couple of days._

_For those of you following _Fear No Darkness_, I wasn't able to get the next chapter finished for tonight's update, but it should be up tomorrow._

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The elf grunted in pain as the orc's blade tore a long, jagged gash in his side. He easily dispatched the creature, cursing inwardly when he caught sight of the foul sword, covered in filth and a faintly-shimmering liquid. 

He clamped one hand over his injury, whirling back to meet more foes with admirable grace despite the wound. Across the clearing his companion, thankfully, remained uninjured throughout their skirmish.

Legolas smiled grimly as another orc fell, pleased to notice that there were only two left of this scouting party. He and Aragorn had simply been returning to Rivendell after a short trip to bring medicines to one of the nearby villages, but they had, predictably, run into trouble on their way back just as night was beginning to fall.

Trouble, in this case, was a rather large band of orcs. They had managed to avoid the main band, but had run into a scouting party of eight.

The battle was fierce, but fairly short, and Legolas sighed in relief as the last orc was dispatched (decapitated, actually, by Aragorn). He fought back a wave of dizziness, leaning against the tree beside him in an effort to keep from falling over.

"Legolas?" Aragorn had instantly noticed his friend's actions, and was at his side in a moment. "What happened? Are you injured?"

Pushing himself up and forcing the dizziness aside, Legolas waved Aragorn's hand away. "It is nothing, Strider," he replied, readjusting the hand over his wound. He could feel the blood seeping through his tunic and prayed the wound would stop bleeding before Aragorn noticed anything.

"We should get moving," the elf added, gesturing to the fallen bodies around them and hiding another wave of dizziness. Now was not the time to tell Aragorn he was injured...it would only worry the ranger, and they had to keep moving. "The rest of the orcs may find us," Legolas continued, abruptly stumbling as another wave of dizziness struck him.

"Ah, Legolas," Aragorn gently caught the elf by the arm, lowering him to sit on the ground. "You _are_ hurt."

"It is nothing," Legolas insisted.

"I will be the judge of that," the ranger said with a frown, prying the elf's arm away from his side.

Silence reigned over the clearing for a moment, broken by a gasp of pain from the elf and a muttered apology from the ranger as the man probed the wound. "I'm afraid it is poisoned," Aragorn said with a sigh. "Hold on, let me—"

"Strider, we can't," Legolas grabbed his friend's arm, wincing as pain exploded in his head. "They might come."

Aragorn sighed, nodding in agreement. He dug an herb out of his pack, crushing it between his fingers and smearing it into the elf's wound. "This should help slow the poison," he explained quietly. Without another word he placed a folded rag over the wound, pressing Legolas' hand against it. "Press down on that, it will slow the bleeding," he murmured, quickly gathering any weapons or supplies that had been dropped in the clearing. He gently pulled the elf to his feet, wrapping one arm around his waist and supporting him from one side. "The horses are gone," he commented wryly. "We need to find shelter."

The elf grinned slightly, fighting another nauseating wave of dizziness as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. "Not a cave this time," he muttered.

"Legolas!" Aragorn chided with a slight laugh. "I think we'd be thankful for a cave if the clouds decide to rain."

Squinting upward, Legolas noticed the gathering clouds for the first time. "Of course," he groaned as the pain from his wound seemed to radiate throughout his body. "Estel, why is it that disaster strikes every time I am near you?"

Aragorn chuckled, shaking his head. "I do not know, my friend. I do not know."

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The ranger sighed and shook his hair out of his eyes, grimacing as more water made its way down his back. He and Legolas had been trekking through the rain for more than an hour now, looking for some shelter that was at least marginally dry. Aragorn had hoped they would have found their horses and could have ridden straight for Rivendell, but, typically, they had no such luck.

Legolas had long since lapsed into some semi-conscious state, the fever raging in his body sapping all of his strength.

A flash of lightening finally revealed what Aragorn was looking for. There was an old cave in this region, used by rangers who were seeking shelter. The rangers had crafted a door to look like the side of the mountain to hide the cave from unfriendly eyes, but it was fairly easy to find by those who knew it was there.

With a quiet murmur to his friend, Aragorn gently set Legolas down against the rock and tapped along its surface for the hidden catch. He found it, and the door easily swung open.

"Come on," he whispered, hauling Legolas back to his feet. "It is a cave, but one often used by the rangers. It will be safe."

He half-carried the elf down the short hall to the room within, moving easily through the dark as he knew the layout of such refuges, and hurried back to latch the door.

Fumbling in the dark, he managed to light a small fire in the fireplace and held up a burning brand to see the small room. The cave was fairly close, meant only to house one or two rangers for a short amount of time, but it was fairly clean and, more importantly, dry. Smoke from the fire escaped through a hidden chimney in the rock, also letting fresh air in.

Satisfied that they were safe, Aragorn ignored his sopping wet clothes and turned his attention to Legolas. The elf was feverish, barely aware of his surroundings.

Quickly searching through his pack, Aragorn found a packet of herbs that had managed to stay dry, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized several that would help combat the poison. He lifted Legolas onto the bed, wincing at the old stains on the blanket. It wasn't the cleanest of surroundings, but it was better than treating his wounds in the forest.

He peeled away the elf's tunic, breathing a sigh of relief that the wound didn't look much worse than it had an hour ago. The poison must have been mild, then, or else Legolas had been lucky and not have absorbed much.

A quick trip to the door brought back a bucket full of rainwater, and Aragorn heated some in a small kettle to clean Legolas' wound. He made a paste from some of the herbs and gently spread it into the jagged cut left by the orc's blade, relaxing a bit when he realized it was fairly superficial and would not require stitching.

"You were almost right this time, mellon-nin," Aragorn muttered. "It is very nearly nothing." He wrapped clean strips of bandage around the elf's middle, covering the wound, and frowned when Legolas didn't respond. The elf had finally passed out, pain and fever overwhelming his body.

Sighing heavily, Aragorn pulled spare clothes out of their packs and spread them on the floor to dry—almost nothing had escaped the rain. "And this is such a nice cave," he commented, carrying on a one-sided conversation with his unconscious companion. "It's more of a house than a cave—I dare say even you could accept it," he added, turning to glance at Legolas. He stopped suddenly, his heart pounding as he noticed an alarming change in his friend.

Aragorn dropped to his knees beside the bed, anxiously feeling for his friend's pulse. His hand nearly recoiled when he touched the ice-cold skin of the elf.

His anxiety doubled. He'd thought the poison was mild, but apparently it was stronger than he'd anticipated.

The ranger turned back to their packs, furiously digging through them for something—anything—that hadn't been soaked by the rain. He found a few things that were only a little damp, and quickly replaced his friend's wet clothes with what he'd found in the packs. There was also a spare blanket he found in the corner by the fireplace, a bit tattered but still in decent shape, and he also wrapped this around his friend.

Back out in the rain, Aragorn hunted up a fairly clean, brick-sized stone near the door to the cave and brought it in, setting it just on the edge of the hearth. With a sigh he sat down beside the bed, reaching up to lay a hand on Legolas' arm, sighing even deeper when he noticed little change in the elf's temperature.

Aragorn bit back a sneeze that tried to force its way out of his nose, shaking his head as an all-too-familiar stuffiness began to make itself known, compounding with the aches he'd been feeling since the day before. Ignoring both, he crawled over to the fire, using the tongs to pull the stone he'd found away from the fire and wrapped it in a rag. He put the now-warmed stone at his friend's feet and pulled the other blanket over him.

With Legolas taken care of, Aragorn finally sat down to rest, leaning sideways against the bed with one hand on the sleeping elf.

It seemed he had barely dozed off when Legolas shifted beneath his hand. Aragorn was awake in an instant, bending over his friend to discover that the chill had departed and the elf was feverish again.

He pulled the blanket off the elf and pushed the still-warm stone away. "Legolas?" he called, taking his friend's hand and wiping his face with a cool cloth. "Can you hear me?"

The elf was moaning restlessly, his eyes fighting to open. The fever wasn't dangerously high, but it was enough to concern the ranger. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me," he murmured, smiling a bit when the elf complied. "I have something that may help you...can you wake up for a moment?"

He was rewarded when Legolas finally opened his eyes, pain-filled blue eyes finding his. "Strider?" he asked in a whisper.

"Aye," the ranger turned his head to hide a cough, disguising it as merely clearing his throat. "One moment," he said, turning to the tea that had been steeping on the hearth. He helped Legolas to a sitting position, gently lifting the cup to help him drink when the elf proved too weak.

The cup drained, Legolas leaned exhaustedly against Aragorn. "What is wrong with me?" he asked, confusion coloring his voice.

Aragorn smiled. "It is certainly not 'nothing'," he couldn't resist saying. "You were poisoned by the orc's blade...it is more severe than I thought, but you should mend quickly."

Legolas nodded, grimacing at the joke the ranger made as his memory came back. "And you? Are you all right?"

"I am fine," Aragorn said reassuringly, ignoring the tickle in the back of his throat. He didn't have time to be sick, and it wasn't something Legolas should worry about. "Just got a bit of smoke in my throat when I was tending to the fire."

Thankfully, the elf was too disoriented to catch the ranger's lie. "I always said smoking was bad for your health," he murmured sleepily.

Aragorn chuckled, wincing as the laughter tried to turn into a harsh cough. He turned away, covering his mouth with one hand and squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to hold the coughs back.

His friend stirred, pushing himself up on his elbows and laying a hand on Aragorn's shoulder worriedly. "Aragorn?"

The ranger waved him away, pausing to take a slow breath. "I'm fine," he rasped, somewhat annoyed at the elf's concern. Legolas was the injured one...this was just a bit of a cold.

"You don't sound fine," Legolas replied worriedly, his voice still weak.

"It's nothing," the ranger snapped, instantly regretting his tone. "I'm sorry, Legolas. Do not worry about me, I will be fine once we get home."

The frown on the elf's face said he didn't believe Aragorn's words, and the man sighed in frustration. "You need to rest," he said, trying a different tactic. "I'm afraid the poison is very strong, it might be days before you fully recover. I would prefer you to be rested before we try to make it back to Rivendell."

He stood to check on the drying clothes he'd spread about the cave, sighing with relief when he found that they were almost dry. His clothes had almost dried out, as well, but the last few hours had left him chilled and oddly lightheaded.

"Strider?"

The elf's weak voice made him turn around again, and he knelt beside the bed clasping his friend's hand. "Legolas?"

Legolas merely shivered, his eyes closing in pain, his grip on the human's hand tightening.

Aragorn frowned, tugging the blanket back around the elf's shoulders. Legolas' skin was cool to the touch—not dangerously so, as it had been before, but enough to worry the ranger. "Be calm, Legolas," he murmured soothingly. "It will pass."

He shook his head as the elf finally calmed, trying to blink back the heavy blackness that seemed to be dancing on the edges of his vision. "We'll be...home...Ada..." his voice trailed off as a sudden wave of dizziness struck, and Aragorn suddenly stood and lurched toward the door, unsure if he was going to be sick or simply pass out.

The ranger vaguely heard his friend calling his name, and the last sight he saw before unconsciousness finally won its battle was the stone floor of the cave rushing toward him with alarming speed.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _


	2. Part Two

Here's part two!

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The elf's heart leapt into his throat when his friend collapsed. "Aragorn?" he called, pushing himself up and shrugging his blankets aside. The human lay still on the floor of the cave, and from where he sat Legolas could see that Aragorn was paler than usual. 

Legolas swung his legs over the side of the bed, instantly regretting it when the wound in his side gave a sharp twinge. He bit his lip, waiting for the dizzying pain to pass and fighting the shiver that wracked his body.

He stumbled to his feet, nearly falling back as he stood, and hobbled over to kneel beside his friend.

"Aragorn?" he called, reaching out a shaky hand to roll the human over. He felt for the ranger's pulse, nearly recoiling when he touched his neck. Aragorn was burning up. Whether it was due to a dangerously high fever or if he just felt that way because of the chill that had taken over the elf's body Legolas didn't know.

The ranger groaned, and Legolas nearly collapsed in relief. For a moment he'd had the irrational fear that the human had died. "Strider?" he asked again, placing his hand on his friend's chest and willing his eyes to open. He suddenly noticed, to his concern, that Aragorn was breathing a bit rapidly, as though he could not take deeper breaths. Then, the elf remembered, there were the coughs he'd tried to blame on the smoke...

Legolas sat back against the side of the bed, resting his head in his hands as a wave of lightheadedness made itself known. Aragorn was sick...and Legolas didn't know what to do. There had been other times when they had been away from home when Aragorn had fallen sick, but he had either been conscious enough to tell Legolas how to help him, or they had been only a short distance from someone who could treat him.

He glanced back down at the ranger, inwardly cursing the wound on his side. He had to lift Aragorn onto the bed, and while he could usually carry his human friend it would be a bit difficult this time.

Easing himself up to his feet, fighting the dizziness that threatened to wash over him, he slid his hands under the ranger's shoulders and started to lift him. Legolas bit his lip to hold back a cry of pain as the movement tugged against the wound in his side, and half-dragged, half-carried Aragorn closer to the bed. Gritting his teeth, the elf hoisted his friend's shoulders up, making sure the human wouldn't slide off before lifting his legs onto the bed as well.

Feeling strangely exhausted, Legolas leaned his forehead against his friend's shoulder for a moment as the room slowly spun in an uneven circle. He glanced down at his side, and lifted the hem of his shirt away to see blood leaking through the bandage.

Legolas ignored his wound for the moment as he pulled his friend's boots off, grimacing as dirty water poured out of them. Aragorn hadn't even taken the time to shake the water out of his boots. Part of the elf was touched that the ranger had been so concerned for his health that he had ignored his own discomfort, while the other part wanted to cheerfully strangle Aragorn for not taking care of himself.

He dipped a clean rag in the bucket Aragorn had left by the doorway and wrung it out, placing the cool cloth over his friend's forehead. Legolas glanced over at the herbs the ranger had spread out, and grimaced as he realized he had no way of knowing what to give the human to help him. He could recognize some of the basic herbs, but Aragorn had never taught him how to treat human ailments.

With a sigh, Legolas sat on the floor beside the bed, much as Aragorn had before, and leaned against it. The elf had stopped shivering a moment ago, and he hoped it was because whatever cure Aragorn had managed to give him was working against the poison and not because his temperature had risen again.

Legolas dozed off and on for almost an hour, frequently checking on his friend in case his condition changed. He had gotten used to getting no response from the human, that he nearly dropped the rag he'd been rewetting when Aragorn moved.

"Estel?" the elf knelt beside the bed, flinching and pressing a hand to his side when his wound reminded him that he was still injured.

The man's forehead wrinkled, and he moved his head a bit with a tiny whimper. Legolas gently wiped Aragorn's face, hoping the cool water would help his friend come around.

Bleary gray eyes blinked open, fastening on the archer's familiar face. Legolas smiled in relief, though he was concerned at the hazy confusion in the ranger's eyes. "How do you feel?" he asked, forcing his voice to sound stronger than it was so Aragorn wouldn't worry about him.

Aragorn groaned, and abruptly started coughing. Legolas' eyes widened, and he helped his friend sit up and held him steady as the man was wracked with deep, hacking coughs. The elf winced at the rattle of congestion he heard, and he gently rubbed Aragorn's back as he had seen Elrond do when the ranger was sick with this illness.

Eventually, the man's coughs slowed and he was able to control his breathing again. Legolas worriedly held Aragorn upright, afraid that letting him lie down would cause another coughing fit. "Are you all right?" he asked, knowing what the ranger's response would be.

"I'm fine," Aragorn rasped with a wince, closing his eyes and clutching his head with one hand as though he were dizzy.

"No you're not," Legolas accused, flinching when he heard his own voice waver. So much for keeping Aragorn from worrying.

The man turned a sharp glance on him. "I will be," he amended. "It's just a cold, Legolas. It's nothing."

Legolas sighed shakily, sitting back down as his limbs refused to hold him any longer. "I don't think it is," he replied.

"And you?" Aragorn asked, gesturing toward the elf. "You're bleeding."

He looked down, eyes widening at the red stain that had spread across the side of his shirt. "It's nothing?"

Aragorn groaned, coughing again, and collapsed back down on the bed, too tired and sick to do anything. "I just need to rest, I'll be fine in a few hours," he said, his voice still weak.

Legolas bit his lip in concern, unwilling to believe that would be true. "There has to be something I can do," he said, frustration welling up.

The ranger opened one eye, studying the elf's condition. Legolas resisted the urge to fidget under his friend's gaze, knowing the healer in Aragorn was trying to determine what ailment he was hiding. "There is one thing," the man finally said tiredly, turning on his side. "The red leaf...tea."

There were a couple of red leaves lying near the fire, and Legolas picked one of these up, trying to force his hand to remain steady. "This one?" he asked.

Aragorn nodded, his eyes closing. The man was on the verge of unconsciousness again, and Legolas hoped he was merely falling asleep. "Water."

A small kettle sat on the hearth, its water still warm. Legolas put it in the fire to heat it up a bit, crushing the leaf into the mug Aragorn had used earlier. He hoped he had understood the ranger's instruction as he swirled together the crushed herb and the water. "Now what?" he asked.

"Drink it," the man whispered.

Legolas frowned. "Me?"

"Will fight poison," Aragorn muttered, his voice wavering.

"Strider," Legolas glared down at the mug in his hand. He should have known—even if he were on his deathbed Aragorn would never see to his own illness before making sure his companions were cared for.

"Elf," Aragorn opened one eye, wearily looking down at his friend.

Legolas sighed, knowing it was no use to argue with Aragorn now. He slowly sipped the tea, hoping it would give him enough strength to care for the ill human. He lowered the mug to glare at the ranger, dropping his head when he saw that the man was asleep again.

He set the mug aside, glancing down at the blood-soaked bandage around his middle. He climbed to his knees to find a clean bandage, quickly changing his mind as his arms nearly buckled beneath him.

Gingerly and painfully scooting over to sit against the bed, he leaned his head back and wearily closed his eyes. He only meant to rest for a moment, but he was soon fast asleep.

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The dull pounding of his head was the first thing that woke Aragorn up, followed quickly by the desperate need to cough. He curled up on his side, covering his mouth to muffle the coughs and trying just to breathe. Aragorn groaned, curling up even tighter as his throat burned from coughing too harshly. He pried his eyes open, glancing around the small room for the elf.

Legolas was nowhere in sight, and Aragorn slowly pushed himself up. He heard a strange sound coming from the entryway, and glanced over to see the elf stagger into the room, clutching at the wall for support.

Pain-filled blue eyes met his dull gray ones. "You're awake," Legolas said softly, sinking down against the wall and drawing his knees up to his chest.

Aragorn frowned at the obvious signs of pain in his friend. "You're hurting," he rasped, wincing as his throat ached. He pushed off the blanket and started to sit up, falling back down as dizziness assaulted his senses.

"It's nothing," Legolas joked, one hand pressing against his side.

The ranger groaned, closing his eyes. "I think I'm going to get very tired of hearing that," he complained softly.

"How do you feel?" Legolas asked worriedly, and Aragorn opened his eyes to see his friend half-crawl over to him.

The elf's hand on his forehead was ice-cold, and Aragorn grabbed his friend by the wrist. "You're freezing," he said slowly, shocked.

Legolas pulled away, and he wrapped both arms around himself. "I know," he whispered.

Aragorn groaned, more for his friend than himself. The orc's poison was refusing to release its hold, and he feared Legolas would not recover unless they got back to Rivendell.

Silence reigned for a few moments as Aragorn considered their position. There was no way he could make it back to Rivendell, and Legolas was in no better shape. They were stuck, stuck until he recovered enough to make the journey or Legolas overcame the poisoning, neither of which seemed likely to happen soon.

"Is it still raining?" he asked, figuring that was what the elf had gone to check.

"Barely."

With a sigh the ranger pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pausing as his fevered brain spun for a moment. _You can do this_, he thought. _You've been sick before, it's nothing you can't handle_.

"What are you doing?"

Ignoring Legolas' question, Aragorn pushed himself up to his feet, wavering a bit but standing. "I'm leaving," he said, though his words came out somewhat weaker than he intended.

"You can't," Legolas levered himself up, grabbing the side of the bed for support. "Aragorn, you're sick...you won't make it ten steps out the door."

"I have to do something," the ranger replied, stooping to pick up his cloak and fastening it around his neck. "We can't stay here, Legolas. I have to try."

The elf shook his head, his hand shaking as he fumbled for his own cloak. "Then I'm coming with you," he said decisively.

It was Aragorn's turn to be exasperated. "You can't, Legolas," he said, pausing to lean against the wall as he coughed. "You're still too weak."

"And you aren't?" Legolas asked, his legs buckling as he sat down on the bed.

Aragorn was quiet, studying the floor intently. "Legolas, you're immortal," he finally said quietly, steadying himself with one hand on the wall as the ground suddenly seemed unstable. "If one of us has to die it should be me."

"No," the elf's voice, though a bit shaky, was fervent.

"Legolas."

"No," Legolas rose, grabbing Aragorn by the arm and forcing the man's head back up. "I won't let you go alone."

"Elf," Aragorn put a good measure of warning into his tone.

"You can hardly stand," Legolas added.

"Neither can you," Aragorn retorted as the elf wavered.

Legolas sighed. "We have a better chance of making it if we go together."

The ranger couldn't reply. He knew that was true, but he still couldn't just let his friend walk all the way to Rivendell injured the way he was.

"Besides," the elf's voice suddenly lightened. "How will you go without your boots?"

For the first time, Aragorn noticed that he was barefoot. "All right," he grumbled, going back to sit on the bed. "Stubborn Elf," he muttered as Legolas pushed his boots over to him.

As he tied his boots on, he directed Legolas to pack only the barest of what they might need for the rest of their journey. It was only a few hours to Rivendell by horse, but he knew it could take them well over a day in their conditions.

"You know, my father will say we're two of the most stubborn beings he's ever met," Aragorn commented wryly as he closed the door, turning to face the rising sun.

"Really?" Legolas asked, wrapping one arm around the ranger's waist and letting Aragorn lean against him as the ranger's legs wobbled a bit. "I can't imagine why."

The human grinned, fighting back a laugh. "Neither can I," he added quietly.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

Last part of the story will be posted Wednesday night.


	3. Part Three

Here's the final part of the story!

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The brightness of the morning belied the struggle going on through the forests on the road to Imladris. 

Legolas had nearly worried his lower lip raw as he forced back another cry of pain. Aragorn was leaning heavily against him, coughing harshly, his face pale and drawn. The elf shifted his weight on his feet, wincing as the movement sent another spasm of pain through his side.

"...sorry..." the ranger whispered, slowly catching his breath.

The elf just grunted, sighing in relief when Aragorn finally regained his balance enough to stand on his own rather than leaning on his friend. "Are you all right?" Legolas asked in concern.

"Aye," Aragorn nodded, blinking a bit to get his bearings. "We should rest."

Not waiting for the elf's response, the man simply sat down on a fallen log. He glanced up at Legolas, a tiny smirk playing across his face. "You will be able to get up again, won't you?"

Legolas ignored the ranger's jest and sat beside him, stiffening for a moment as he inadvertently pulled at his wound.

The ranger immediately noticed his friend's discomfort. "You're hurt."

"And you're sick," Legolas retorted.

Aragorn snorted, though Legolas could still see the concern in his friend's fever-dulled eyes. "Quite the pair we make."

Legolas had to agree. "Why is it that every time we are together we nearly die, despite our best efforts?" he asked softly.

"Elladan would probably say we _survive_ despite our best efforts," Aragorn commented, dropping his head down to rest on his knees. He raised it again momentarily, studying the elf. "How do you feel?"

_Tired, sore, cold, and like I might die if I have to take another step,_ Legolas thought sardonically. "Fine," he whispered, closing his own eyes and hunching over slightly to press one hand against his side.

The ranger snorted again. "Should I change your bandage?"

"No," Legolas winced. "I...it won't come off."

Aragorn straightened, pausing as his skin grayed from the sudden movement. "What?"

Wincing again at his friend's tone, Legolas looked down to avoid his friend's worried eyes. "I tried, it's...the blood dried and I could not get it off." He had tried, back in the cave while Aragorn was still sleeping, but the blood had soaked through the bandage and around the skin, and was now stuck to his flesh on either side of the wound. "At least it's not bleeding," he offered quietly.

The ranger sighed, resting his head in his hands. "I wish you had told me," he muttered, sniffing. Legolas glanced at him, wondering if his friend was crying but it was merely the man's nose running. "I could have done something back at the cave."

Legolas wanted to protest, to say that leaving was more important, but he had no strength to. He was too tired, and just wanted to rest.

"Legolas?"

It took the elf a moment to realized he had almost blacked out, and that Aragorn was kneeling in front of him with a worried expression on his face.

"Estel?" he asked, confusion coloring his voice.

The ranger's eyes furrowed in concern or pain. "You're not well...here, lie down."

"No," Legolas protested, fighting against his friend's grip. "We have to keep going."

"I need to look at your wound."

"Don't."

Aragorn sighed in impatience. "We do have to keep moving, Legolas, but your wound needs to be tended to."

Legolas shook his head. "It's nothing," he replied, earning a glare and a grimace from the human. "It's not bleeding," he amended, fighting yet another wave of lightheadedness.

The ranger grumbled something about stubborn elf-princes under his breath. "All right," Aragorn finally said, pushing himself up to his feet and extending a hand toward Legolas.

He accepted the help gratefully, swallowing his pride as the ranger pulled him to his feet. His knees nearly buckled, and Aragorn quickly wrapped an arm around his waist to support him.

Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, regaining his balance. "I'm all right," he said quietly. "I can walk."

Aragorn nodded, pulling Legolas' arm around his neck. "Let's go."

The elf tried to pull away. "Aragorn."

"Legolas, you nearly passed out a moment ago," the ranger argued, refusing to release his hold on the elf. "Let me help you."

"But you can't," Legolas protested. "You're sick."

The man fell silent for a moment. "Lean on me," he said quietly. "Then when I can't walk any further I'll lean on you."

Legolas swallowed apprehensively. He honestly didn't know if he could support the ranger's weight in his condition, but if Aragorn was willing to try the least he could do was go along with him. "All right," the elf assented, fighting back pride in the face of practicality.

It was slow going, and it was agony for Legolas when it was his turn to support his friend's weight. But he refused to complain, knowing the ranger had to feel just as weak if not more so, even if he was hiding it rather well.

As the morning passed into afternoon, their progression grew even slower as both were forced to stop more frequently to rest. Legolas' wound was a constant ache in his side, and to make matters worse his head was spinning with every step. Aragorn's fever had grown higher, and he could scarcely breathe without coughing, congestion settling deep in his chest.

And then, Legolas fell.

He bit back the cry of pain to a whimper as his knees took the brunt of both his weight and Aragorn's. Despite the ranger's protests that they could stop to rest, Legolas struggled back up to his feet and managed to take another step before falling again.

Aragorn collapsed beside him, his body wracked with harsh coughs. Legolas groaned, covering his eyes with one hand as the spinning in his head abruptly turned to a rhythmic pounding, like the hooves of a horse galloping down the beaten path.

"Legolas?"

The elf started, opening his eyes and turning to look worriedly at his friend. Aragorn's voice was unrecognizable, his throat raw.

"Go," Legolas whispered, curling up as his side throbbed mercilessly.

Aragorn somehow managed to shake his head. "I won't leave without you."

Legolas growled, but it turned into a whimper as the pounding in his head grew steadily louder. "It's too late."

"No," the ranger grabbed Legolas' wrist. "We can still make it."

Sighing, Legolas closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Estel."

He heard Aragorn move, and felt the ranger hook his hands under his arms. "Get up, Elf!" the human demanded. "This is nothing, remember? Nothing! Get up!"

With a shiver, Legolas futilely tried to pull away. "If one of us has to die," he whispered weakly.

"No, Legolas," Aragorn's voice broke off, and Legolas winced, imagining the pain in his friend's eyes.

"I am sorry," he said again.

"_Smokey?_"

Legolas started, blinking up at the ranger. "What?"

"Legolas...it's your horse!"

The elf struggled to follow his friend's gesture, his eyes growing wide in shock at the gray horse galloping in their direction, his hooves in perfect rhythm with the pounding that echoed through Legolas' aching head. Which, of course, had been the horse all along.

"Ranger," Legolas sighed, a slight spark of hope finally reentering his mind as his faithful horse trotted up to him, gently nudging the elf's hand with his nose. "I've told you before...his name is Simoliké."

Aragorn chuckled, turning his head aside to cough. "Do you think you have enough strength left to ride?"

Legolas smiled, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "Simoliké will not let me fall," he said confidently. _As you would not let me give up,_ he silently added. The horse neighed and tossed his head as though in agreement.

"That's not the question, then," Aragorn said with forced cheerfulness. "Will he let _me_ fall?"

"As long as you stop calling him 'Smokey'."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Good morning, Estel."

Aragorn cracked his eyes open, a bit startled at the face that leaned over him.

"Ada?"

Lord Elrond smiled. "Your fever has lowered, Estel."

The ranger looked around him, eyes wide. "How did I get here?"

The elf-lord frowned. "You do not remember?"

Aragorn shook his head, his brow furrowing in puzzlement.

"The prince's horse brought the two of you in last night," Elrond explained, sitting on the edge of the bed, his keen eyes studying the human for any sign of lingering weakness that would hamper his healing. "Yours had returned before, but his had not. Legolas was unconscious, and you were delirious and barely holding on."

The human slowly nodded. He remembered bits and pieces now. The last thing he remembered clearly was climbing onto the horse with Legolas, relief at having been found by the good animal too strong to wonder how or why Simoliké had found them. The rest of the journey passed in a blur...it seemed the landscape had grown hazy, and while he could remember the moment that Legolas had passed out—a moment which Aragorn was sure took a decade or two off of his own life—most of the ride seemed faint and unreal. Almost as though it had been something in a dream or a story.

"Legolas," Aragorn tried to sit up, held back by his father. "Ada, where is Legolas?"

Elrond's brow furrowed in concern as he tried, futilely, to calm the human.

Aragorn fought against the elf-lord's grip, his mind locked on his friend's words.

"It's too late."

"Estel," the steel in the elf-lord's tone brought Aragorn's focus back to his father. "If you will be calm I will tell you."

The ranger immediately quieted, staring up at the elf in apprehension. With a small, sympathetic smile Elrond simply stepped aside, gesturing to the bed beside Aragorn's.

Legolas lay curled up in the other bed, his face still pale but with more color in it than before. A blanket was drawn around his shoulders, and he looked to be sleeping peacefully.

"He was half-conscious for a while," Elrond said softly. "I tended his wound and gave him something to combat the poison, but I daresay he has no more idea than you of where he is."

Aragorn sighed in relief at the sight of his friend. "Ada, could he have died?"

Elrond glanced down at the human. "It is possible," he admitted. "He was very weak, as you were. But whether he would have matters not...what does matter is that he didn't."

The ranger silently agreed, clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the coughs that erupted. Elrond smiled briefly, turning to a nearby table to retrieve a mug. "Drink, Estel."

Aragorn made a face at the bitter taste of the medicine his father gave him. "It won't put me to sleep, will it?" he asked worriedly.

"No," Elrond raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. "But it will make you very tired, and if you wish to sleep you should not resist the impulse."

Had Aragorn been younger, he might have pouted. "I want to be awake when Legolas wakes up."

He heard his father sigh, and fought to hide a grin. "It may not be for some time," Elrond warned Aragorn.

However, as though actively trying to belie Elrond's words, Legolas chose that moment to groan.

The elf-lord was immediately at the prince's bedside, speaking to him in hushed tones as the wood-elf slowly woke up.

"L-lord Elrond?"

His friend's sleep-confused voice brought another smile to Aragorn's face. "We made it, Legolas," he called, not even minding the hoarseness of his own voice.

The elf was quiet for a moment, as though trying to understand this. "We made it," he repeated softly.

"Aye," Aragorn's smile broadened as Elrond stepped back so the two friends could see each other.

"We're alive," Legolas said, shaking his head as though he could not quite believe it.

"Despite our best efforts," Aragorn added, his grin turning a bit more mischievous.

Legolas blinked in astonishment at his friend's words, then his eyes widened in understanding and he turned to bury his face in his pillow, suddenly helpless with laughter. Elrond looked on in concern as Aragorn started laughing as well, stopping with a wince as the movement triggered an irritated cough.

"What do you mean?" the elf-lord asked, looking from one hysterical being to the other.

Still chuckling, the ranger reached over to pat the elf-lord's hand. "It's nothing, Ada," he said, grinning over at Legolas. "Absolutely nothing."

_The End_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: The Smokey/Simoliké reference was also made in_ Departing Shadows.


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